


Adventures in Banking

by thequidditchpitch_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Comedy, Erotica, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Slash, The Quidditch Pitch: The Changing Room
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-04-05
Updated: 2006-04-05
Packaged: 2018-10-26 15:09:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10789176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thequidditchpitch_archivist/pseuds/thequidditchpitch_archivist
Summary: Written for a "9 to 5" challenge at the Ron_Draco LJ community. Ron and Draco, an established couple, both work at Gringott's in different departments. They arrange to meet for tea but accidentally meet up somewhere else sooner, to their mutual (and slightly kinky) benefit.





	Adventures in Banking

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).

"Wake up, sleepy-head!" the charmed clock chirped at Ron from his bedside table. When there was no response aside from a grunt and a freckled arm draped over his eyes, the clock jumped down and began tap dancing on his chest.  
  
"Wake up, wake up!" the infernal item merrily squawked until Ron, in a practised somnifacient move, swept his arm over his body and the clock went flying across the room.  
  
"Wake up, wake up," it croaked from under the dresser.  
  
"Shut the bloody hell up," Ron moaned and turned onto his stomach. "Merlin."  
  
He covered his head with the comforter, but knowing he had to be at work in less than an hour, he threw the fabric back seconds afterwards, murmuring obscenities as he did. A hot shower later, he plodded into the kitchen, opened a cupboard and took out a coffee mug that stated 'Not A Morning Person.' He stared at the empty coffee pot.  
  
"Well, hello, sunshine," said a caramel voice, hideously chipper. "Decided to get up, did we?"  
  
Ron rumbled an indecent reply.  
  
"Don't know that I caught that."  
  
"Yes. I'm up. Why isn't there any coffee?"  
  
"Because only you drink it, and you were asleep," Draco said pointedly. He sniffed. "So you've bathed."  
  
"Yeah," Ron grumbled, opening more cabinet doors and looking for breakfast-type items. "Thought I would."  
  
"After last night, that's a good thing." Draco salaciously ran his tongue over his teeth.  
  
Ron turned around and attempted a look of disgust, but failed. "You know I like smelling like you, and that poncey woodsy stuff you wear." He crossed his arms over his chest. "But I did need to clean up. Workday and all that."  
  
Draco let his gaze rake over Ron from the top of this head to his exposed collarbones and the Green Knights Quidditch team bathrobe loosely belted at his waist. "You always do wash up so thoroughly," he intoned. "Pity, that."  
  
Ron raised an eyebrow. "Gonna make a man out of me this morning?"  
  
Draco's pink tongue re-emerged from his mouth to lick at the corner of his lips, which he pursed, smirking. "Wish I could, but I have a nine o'clock meeting."  
  
"Oh, bloody hell!"  
  
Ron tore through their small kitchen, grasping at a breakfast before bolting toward their bedroom, shedding the velour bathrobe as he went.  
  
"Problem, Ron?" Draco called, still sitting demurely in his chair, sipping tea.  
  
"Got a sodding meeting with the other blokes in Acquisitions," Ron yelled back. "At 8:30."  
  
Draco gripped his cup with refined fingers, studying his left hand. He needed to trim his nails. Instead, in a moment of lassitude, he put his ring finger in his mouth and chewed on the rough surface. He was still absently gnawing on his nail when Ron re-appeared, fully dressed. His Gringott's-approved tie was done, but messily knotted; his robes were horribly crumpled and his eyes were panicked.  
  
"What's the time?"  
  
As if on cue, the untoward clock meandered into the kitchen. "Eight twenty-nine," it sang.  
  
"GAH!" Ron ran out of the kitchen. Seconds later he returned, scowling. "Sorry. Didn't mean to leave like that. Have a good day." He bent down and in an unexpected gesture, gave Draco a tender kiss on the forehead. "Now I've got to go or I'm going to be absolutely bollocks with Finlayson."  
  
"Of course you are," Draco replied, taking Ron's hand and giving it a quick, firm squeeze. "Acquisitions is such a pedestrian line, but I'm sure you'll manage."  
  
Ron snorted. "It's heaps more interesting than all that bereavement shite you deal with."  
  
"We call them wills, Ron. Wills. People of intelligence and well-bred scrutiny are needed to carry out the final wishes of those witches and wizards of means who realised that they can't take their galleons and estates with them."  
  
A frustrated look passed over Ron's face before desperation overtook it. "Pixies' piss!" he swore. "I'm taking the floo." He stomped to their fireplace, then glanced over his shoulder. "Drop me a line, 'kay? Maybe we could meet for tea."  
  
Draco nodded.  
  
"Gringotts, third floor!" Ron yelled into the grate, scattering verdant bits of floo powder as he stepped into the fireplace and vanished.  
  
Draco's pale eyebrows knit together as he thought about the day ahead of him. Meeting, conference, some infernal and completely unnecessary instructional presentation on the most current rulings in regards to wizarding laws that he'd already been tested on two months prior.  
  
And perhaps tea with Ron.  
  
A smile crept over his lips before being chased away by a scowl. He was biting his fingernails again. Now they had to be trimmed and buffed.  
  
"Well, bugger," he said to no one in particular, especially since he was alone. "Why can't I have some other, less obvious bad habits? Besides living with Ron?" he asked his chewed nail beds. "Weasel. I had to fall in love with a Weasley." He drew out the two syllables, fondness creeping into the words. "And it had to be Ronald Bilius." Draco lifted the teacup to his mouth, beginning to smile. "But at least he's a good sport about things, and he's really pretty clever, when you get down to it, and he's brilliant with that tongue of his."  
  
Draco's oratory came to a screeching halt. He also had a meeting to attend, and unlike his lover, he wasn't going to show up in disheveled clothing. He'd been thrilled to discover that Ron was talented in all kinds of ways, and after Draco's first dismally boring meeting of the day, perhaps he would be able to send a disguised note to him. The goblins didn't let so much as a pass of gas go unnoticed or uncharted, but after two years of working at the bank, he and Ron had figured out somewhat surreptitious ways to communicate with each other between departments. Neither he nor Ron were above exchanging explicit and potentially incriminating parchments; it made the day more exciting, and often paved the way to passionate sex when they got home.  
  
A quarter of an hour later he inspected himself in their bedroom mirror. White dress shirt, crisply ironed. Crisply ironed by Draco, since Ron was so uncomfortable about having house-elves around that they didn't have any. Draco grudgingly acknowledged that his skills with an iron were now well honed.  
  
His eyes rolled back into his head. "Merlin," he wailed. "I'm turning into one of them. Part of the sub-wizarding families. Be quiet, you!" he yelled at himself in the mirror. "Stop talking to yourself."  
  
The pratish clock was dancing a one-person rumba on the dresser. "It's eight forty-nine, master Malfoy. Time to get to work!"  
  
"Shut up," Draco said through gritted teeth, his long fingers clutching at his tie. "I'm about to go to work. Just need to make sure that I'm presentable."  
  
He brushed his hands down his double-breasted coat and fitted wool trousers. Not a speck of anything. He sniffed at the lapel, hoping it smelled of Ron. Reassuringly, it did. Draco allowed his eyes to close for a millisecond, breathing in _Ronscent_.  
  
He evaluated himself in the mirror. "Draco Malfoy. You are expected at the Gringott's First Floor Conference Room in 7.6 minutes. You will not be late."  
  
"Of course you won't be late, you dolt," his mirror image chastised. "It takes under a minute to floo to the bank. But go on. And you look dashing," he added, licking his thumbs and preening at his reflected eyebrows. "Go on."  
  
Draco went.  
  
  
***  
  
  
Ron barely glanced at the goblin that brought him a delightfully familiar fine grade, shrivelfig-skin envelope. He was pulling out his hair. Or, well, pulling at it, really. None of the infernal red stuff was actually coming out of his head.  
  
"Ruddy Fred and George," he growled at the stack of parchments on his desk. "How on Merlin's green earth did I get stuck with this?"  
  
His brothers were taking over Zonko's, and Ron had been appointed their arbiter. All of their paperwork was in order, so by all means it should have been a refreshingly tidy enterprise. If only Zapateous, Zonko's son, hadn't objected. Now all sorts of elements of the contract were being called into question, and the twins were getting frustrated.  
  
"Bugger this."  
  
Ron pulled the envelope toward him, chuckling as he saw the sender and recipient.

_From: The Cheshire Cat Fourth Branch from the Ground  
Attn: Ronald B. Weasley, Esq._

_Ridiculous,_ he thought. _Two and a half decades of being dead set against Muggles, and the bloody poof's fallen in love with "_ _Alice_ _in Wonderland."_  
  
He ripped it open, tossing the envelope into an overflowing bin at the base of his desk.

_Tea?_ _Two o'clock_ _? Staff lounge.  
Second floor staff lounge, that is. Hope to see you there.  
  
-D.M._

Ron glanced at his watch. It was already 1:50.  
  
"Bloody hell," he muttered as he pushed back his chair, taking a moment to pull himself up and glance over the next cubicle. "Oy! Langford!" he snapped irritably at the half-dozing wizard one partition away.  
  
"Whazzit?" he pudgy man exclaimed, jerking up from his desktop. "Am I late?"  
  
"No," Ron sighed, rolling his eyes. "Meeting was this morning, if you remember," he said, punctuating the last three words.  
  
"Right. Teamwork. Put on a grin for Gringotts," Langford said, pushing up his sleeves and staring at the fluttering memos in his inbox.  
  
"Langford." Ron's voice was authoritative.  
  
"Weasley?" The other wizard now looked perplexed.  
  
"Going to have tea, Langford. That's all you need to know."  
  
"Brilliant. Tea."  
  
"Yes. Tea," Ron repeated.  
  
"Later, then."  
  
Ron sank back into his cubicle. Why did he bother? _Just making sure someone knows that your absence is legitimate,_ his inner monologue replied.  
  
_Oh. Right. And stop talking to yourself in your head,_ Ron chastised.  
  
_No problem._  
  
  
***  
  
  
Ron had drunk heaps of coffee that morning and really needed the loo. He'd planned to take the less-obtrusive stairs down to the staff lounge on the second floor and he was running out of time, if we were going to meet Draco when requested. There was a staff toilet for non-goblins on the second floor, and being part of the few human staff of the bank, he was pretty sure to have it to himself. Goblins preferred to keep to themselves, and Ron wasn't above sneaking in there for some solitary time alone. It reminded him, in a fond, perverse way, of the prefects'-exclusive bathrooms at Hogwarts.  
  
He was relieving himself at a porcelain stand when the door opened.  
  
"Mmmmmm," a very familiar voice drawled. "That looks delightfully familiar." Still mid-stream, Ron jerked his head toward the door as Draco sauntered in. "Keep that up and you're going to be late for our tea."  
  
"Am not," Ron insisted, a faint blush creeping over his face. "And just because we're shagging doesn't mean you should stare at me like that."  
  
Draco went into one of the two adjoining stalls, swatting Ron on the arse as he passed by. "We live together. We're not just shagging," he said in distaste, the words and various splashing noises echoing in the tiled room after the blond pulled his door shut.  
  
Ron shrugged as he tucked himself back in and zipped up his trousers. Draco did have a point; they'd been lovers and flatmates for several years now, much to the consternation of their friends and family who couldn't understand how their deep-seated resentment of each other could have metamorphosed into lust, followed by grudging respect. Which led to, most disturbing of all, genuine affection and unfailing devotion to each other.  
  
All of a sudden, Ron was struck with a tantalizingly sexy idea. He washed his hands, then took his wand off of the shelf below a row of mirrors and cast a locking charm on the door. Only the two of them were in the room, after all, and there simply weren't that many people liable to wander by and need the gents'. Ron didn't want to be disturbed.  
  
Draco exited his stall and stood next to Ron at the sinks, holding his hands below the magically rushing jets. He rubbed his soapy fingers, intertwining them under the water. "Shall we go?" he queried as the taps stopped.  
  
"No. Don't think we should," Ron said into Draco's hair, which smelled vaguely of pine. "Thought we might stay here."  
  
Draco slowly turned, breathing into Ron's face, which was mere millimetres away. Due to a late but much-appreciated growth spurt, Draco nearly matched Ron's six foot two height. "Stay here?" he asked, incredulous. "Why on earth would we- oh!" The rest of his sentence was cut off as Ron's hand manoeuvered across Draco's groin and through his trousers, began massaging his cock.  
  
"I thought we might enjoy a bit of time alone," Ron said nonchalantly, his fingers slowly clenching and unclenching while Draco leaned back against a sink.  
  
"Don't suppose you locked the door."  
  
"'Course I did."  
  
Draco relaxed a bit into the ministrations. "For a Weasley, you're awfully thoughtful," he murmured, thrusting out his hips so Ron had better access to his cock, which was hardening under Ron's talented hand.  
  
"I'll take that compliment," Ron rumbled into Draco's exposed neck before he licked across a narrow band of flesh. Draco bit down on his lower lip while Ron sucked tenderly on a spot at the back of his neck. It was enough to make a slight bruise but also one that wouldn't be seen under Draco's shoulder-length hair.  
  
"You'll take a lot, you hedonist," Draco threatened, continuing to undulate against Ron's hand.  
  
"I think you'll be the one who does the taking."  
  
A devilish smile lit Draco's mouth as he pulled at Ron's arse, reveling in the friction of their growing erections rubbing together through robes and clothes. True enough, Ron usually made love to him, but Draco figured he was by far getting the best end of that particular combination. He'd even done a bit of research into various sexual practises; there was certainly no harm in continuing one's education post-Hogwarts, especially in this realm. He decided to turn the tables and do something Ron would never expect.  
  
Draco moved his hands to pull Ron's face to his, kissing the warm lips and opening Ron's mouth with his tongue. Ron kissed back with enthusiasm, plunging his tongue into Draco's mouth and moving it as forcefully as he grasped Draco's groin. As they kissed, Draco kneaded at Ron's squarish backside, eliciting an appreciated but rather muffled moan.  
  
Ron pulled away, breathing heavily. "This is pretty ruddy daring, being at work and all," he gasped dazedly at his lover. "You sure you don't mind?"  
  
"Ron, you locked the door," Draco said pointedly, still clutching Ron's arse. "Besides, now I'm the one in charge."  
  
Ron blinked. "You're what?"  
  
"I'm in charge." Draco's hands slithered up underneath Ron's open robes and his shirt, tugging at the taut nipples. Ron closed his eyes, grinding his hips into Draco's. "And I want you to strip."  
  
"Strip? What, right now?"  
  
Draco nodded, twisting less gently on the nubs, making Ron hiss. "Yes. And then I'm going to transform your robe to a cushion for you to lie down on, bind your arms to these sinks, and have my way with you. After I let you suck me, that is."  
  
Ron stood, mouth gaping before he snapped it shut. "Oy! This was my idea, not yours!" he insisted.  
  
Draco's hands gave a last tweak, and with Seeker speed, he drew his wand from its holster at his hip and nudged it at the prominent bulge in Ron's pants.  
  
"Yes, but now I'm feeling creative, and you will obey any demand I make of you."  
  
Ron looked as though he might keel over. Draco gently pushed him back and watched appreciatively as Ron shed his robes, rid himself of his shirt and tie and hastily took off his shoes, socks, corduroys and Chudley Cannons boxers. With a swish and flick, the robe became a bed-sized black cushion which Ron sat down on, still looking stunned.  
  
"Lie down, and spread out your arms."  
  
Ron did as he was told, seeming both apprehensive and very turned on. Before murmuring the spell that tied Ron's hands to the ceramic pillars, Draco admired his lover's jutting cock, especially the vivid curls at its base.  
  
"You're staring at me," Ron said, a blush beginning at his neck. He tested the ropes around his wrists, but they didn't budge.  
  
"I certainly am," Draco said as he undressed, letting his gaze roam freely over the familiar muscles, noticing that Ron was clenching and unclenching his arse and curling his toes, a sure sign that he was feeling as randy as Draco. "The combination of red and white on you is terribly distracting, you know."  
  
"In a good way, I hope."  
  
Draco gracefully straddled Ron, bracing his hands on the cushion beside Ron's freckled ribs. A small wave of pleasure rushed through him when the sensitive skin of his cock brushed against Ron's very hard length. "Always. Especially now, unable to touch yourself, completely naked. Merlin, but you are tremendous."  
  
Ron stared, breathing in little huffs through his mouth and raising his hips up to Draco's. "God, Draco. I, well, I…" Ron's voice trailed off as Draco crawled up his body, taking his cock in hand and poising it over Ron's mouth. "I didn't have anything like this in mind when I locked the door." He sent his tongue out and licked the head of Draco's cock, and Draco smiled, feral and possessive. "But it's probably the hottest thing we've ever done."  
  
"And people have the nerve to say that banking is a boring profession," Draco sighed dramatically. "Now put that gorgeous mouth to work." Ron lifted his head a bit and closed his eyes while Draco buttressed himself on the two sinks, sliding in and out of Ron's lips. "You're so erotic," Draco murmured, hips slowly moving back and forth while Ron turned his head from side to side, lapping and licking. "Seeing my cock in your mouth, knowing you like the taste of it. I bet you really love this, unable to do anything but please me."  
  
Ron gave a muffled, "Um hmm" noise that buzzed delightfully around Draco, who picked up the pace of his shallow lunges.  
  
"I bet you wish you could touch my chest," Draco continued, his voice a mid-range purr. "You do take such good care of me, sucking on my nipples, knowing how turned on I get before you flip me over and fuck me until I'm screaming." There was a frustrated sound as Ron opened his eyes, looking pleadingly at the blond, raising his head even higher to take Draco deeper in his mouth. "Yes, right now you're helpless, loving the feel of my cock, of that little bit of saltiness in your mouth, thinking how good it feels when I do that to you."  
  
Ron dropped his head back and in an agonised voice said, "C'mon Draco! Let me make you come."  
  
Draco could feel Ron bucking his hips into empty air behind him. "You will, my fiery and shockingly endowed wizard." The lips wrapped around Draco's length again, but Draco dropped a hand down and pushed Ron into the cushion. "But not quite yet."  
  
"What're you gonna do?" Ron asked as Draco knee-walked away from Ron's head and panting mouth.  
  
"You'll see." Draco hovered over Ron's chest, lazily laving at the hard nipples surrounded by a wide y-shape of copper hair.  
  
"Oh god, Draco," Ron moaned, wriggling his hips and spreading his legs apart.  
  
"Hmm," Draco said thoughtfully, scooting further back until he was astride one of Ron's calves, burying his nose in the russet thatch of hair before dragging his tongue upward.  
  
"Fuck, yes, just like that, Merlin." A litany of praise and profanity came streaming into the room as Ron pulled vainly on his ropes, Draco's equally talented tongue and teeth working up and down his shaft.  
  
With a last swipe across the head of Ron's cock, Draco sat up. "I do believe I'll need my wand," he declared, getting up and retrieving it from the sink ledge. "You're being a bit noisy. " He waved his wand in a tsk-tsk manner, then he cast a _silencio_ spell on the walls. "Much better."  
  
Ron gazed a bit sheepishly up at him, but the look soon turned to one of lust as Draco cast an oft-used lubrication charm on himself. "You mean, you're going to-"  
  
"Oh yes," Draco breathed, back on his hands and knees, positioning his narrow arse in a location that made his intentions perfectly clear. Though a series of slow rocking movements, combined with Ron's careful but enthusiastic propelling motions, Draco eventually was sitting on Ron's hips, letting his body adjust to the wide invasion. "I'm going to let you fuck me. Here, in the loo, during teatime."  
  
"You're brilliant," Ron grinned, a tear of sweat trickling down the side of his face.  
  
"Of course I am. Now I want you to bugger me senseless."  
  
Ron didn't need to be told twice.  
  
  
***  
  
  
Thirty minutes later, Ron whistled cheerily as he took a file out of his cabinet, not even bothering to swear when a puff of rotten egg-smelling smoke came out of a long-neglected file in the back. He'd crossed his ankles on the rim of his rubbish bin when there was a loud voice-clearing sound behind him. He leaned back to see who was visiting. "Oh. Hey, Langford."  
  
The older wizard stared at Ron. He was pulling at his heard and clutching a memo, looking confused.  
  
"Problem?" Ron asked brightly.  
  
"Is there some kind of special tea they have today in the lounge?"  
  
"No. Why?"  
  
Langford tilted his head, then shrugged. "No reason, I suppose. You've just been in a really good mood since you got back from your tea." He shuffled back to his adjoining cubicle.  
  
"Just the finest Gringott's has to offer," Ron chuckled to himself, rubbing slightly at one wrist where the ropes had chafed. "And Mum said I'd never have any fun in my job. Reckon there're all kinds of adventures to be had in banking."


End file.
